Not All Who Wander are Lost
by Mustache.master
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the of the Wandering Raven. Sherlock and John investigate an old legend and pick up two girls wandering through the English countryside.
1. Chapter 1

_'3000 dollars or 1500 pounds in plane tickets, two back packs, one global mobile phone, 5,000 dollars to our names, and a plan is all they thought they would need. The two girls had no idea what they're soul searching; view seeking trip to England would turn into a race against the clock and the suits.'_

"That's rubbish, what is it?"

"Please stop reading over my should while I blog. And you know what it is, it was our last case!" John had stopped typing to look up a Sherlock. "The one that Emily and Andy helped us on."

"Helped?" snorted Sherlock. "All they did was get in the way." He climbed onto the back of his chair and touched his fingertips together.

"You bounced ideas off them and it was nice to talk to actual people." John closed his laptop and swiveled in his chair to face Sherlock. "Not to mention without them we wouldn't have even found the damn thing."

Sherlock's eyes flicker to John and then back at the wall. "I would have found it, might have taken a little longer but I would have," he mumbled through his hands.

John was in a challenging mood. The girls had been very sweet and very helpful and were a change of pace. "So you're telling me, if we would have driven past them and not stopped, we would still be sitting here today, with the case closed?"

Sherlock did not respond or move. John smiled and wiped his hands on his pants. He pushed himself out of the desk chair. "Tea?"

000

"Emily, use your womanly ways and get us a ride to the next town," joked Andy as she nudged her friend in the side. "It's getting dark."

Emily shoved her back into the dirt along the road. "If you're so worried about it, you use your womanly ways!" The two continued to walk in silence. The two casting strange shadows as the sun dipped below the horizon.

_'The two were a strange sight to see out in the middle of nowhere. They weren't your normal hitchhikers. They were clean and polite and seemed to know exactly where they were going._

_The two were very different but very much the same. Andy was a foot taller than Emily but still at chin level on Sherlock. Emily was petite with long dark hair and pale skin while Andy was broad shouldered with a short crop of brown hair and a tan. But both of them smiled and laughed at the same things and spoke in the same American accent. They didn't seem to have a care in the world.'_

Emily rubbed her arms and attempted not to look cold as a gust of wind brought them to a stop. "Time to add a clothing layer." She unbuckled her pack and put it on the ground to dig through it.

"Agreed," nodded Andy and expertly pulled a sweater out of a pocket on the side of her bag. She grinned at Emily kneeling on the ground.

She looked up at her grinning friend. "Smooth. But you still have to take your bag off to put it on." She giggled as the smile fell from Andy's face.

She threw her pack on the ground and roughly pulled the sweater over her head. "You know, you get just a little bitchy when the sun goes down." The two stared at each other and then began to laugh. Emily went back to searching for a sweatshirt. Andy rubbed her hands together and looked up at the sky. "Supper while we're stopped?" she asked more to the stars than her companion.

"Sure. Instant soup or the sandwiches that are probably destroyed?" She made a noise as she surrendered to her bag. "Did you hear me?"

Andy looked back down to her friend. "I don't care. Neither sound very good." Emily agrees. "Do you want to barrow a sweater?"

"Yeah, I must have left mine at the hostel or something." She began to rummage through the other bag. "I'll have to get one in the next town, also some real food." She pulled an ugly green cable sweater out of Andy's pack and stared at her. "Trade me."

"Beggars can't be choosers my dear."

"But this one is really ugly."

"So I should wear it?"

"Yes."

"Remember that thing about you getting a little bitchy? You're proving me right." Andy pulled off her sweater and threw it at Emily, wrapping it around her face. They both pulled on the new layers and Emily started searching for the last of their food. Andy looked back at the stars.

000

"You really think a case that we had 'help' on is worth blogging about?" asked Sherlock, surprisingly using air quotes as he said help.

John looked up from his tea and shook his head. "What's with the?" he mimed the air quotes. "They helped whether you like it or not. I know that's hard for you to wrap you brain around but."

"I understand the meaning of the word help. I just don't like the thought of people thinking that I, we, need help." He touched his fingertips together and then leaned back in his chair.

"Well we did. This time anyway. But that's not to say you weren't up to your normal brilliance standards, you just needed fresh eyes."

"Fresh eyes…" Sherlock abruptly stood up. "I do need fresh eyes." He quickly wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on his coat. "I meant to go get some weeks ago!" Sherlock spun on his heel and headed down the steps.

"That's not what I meant!" shouted John after him. John looked at his tea and then to the door. "Remember last time he went out on his own for body parts?" He quickly abandoned his tea and pulled on a jacket. "I hate going to the police station that late at night."

"Sherlock!" John slammed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

'T_he case had been brought to Sherlock by his brother. In his usual style, Mycroft sat cross-legged in my chair and in an expensive suit. He gripped the end of his umbrella especially hard today. He didn't even smile and refuse the tea Mrs. Hudson handed him._

_"What's wrong big brother? Another urgent case from the Queen?" asked Sherlock with a bitter grin. He stood hold his violin against his shoulder, waiting to strike the strings._

_"Better than that dear brother, a case I don't think can be solved." Mycroft paused and tapped his fingers on his umbrella. "Interested?"'_

_000_

"Sherlock. Why did we just take a case with absolutely no detail from your brother? Not to mention, do you remember the last case we got from him?" John made a face as he sipped his tea. "I mean why? You never just say yes like that."

Sherlock had remained silent since his brother left two hours ago. He had nodded to take the case and stood gazing out of the window, violin still in hand.

The apartment was quiet and Mrs. Hudson could be heard clamoring around in her kitchen below. John sighed loudly and leaned back in his chair. "Are you going to tell me what's going on or should I follow like a lost puppy as usual?"

Silence.

000

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" moaned Emily as she trailed behind Andy, glancing back occasionally at the road. "We don't have a map or anything…"

"We are going south east toward London!" shouted Andy, not turning around. "We were in Manchester and now we are working our way to London, which is south." She stopped and waited for Emily to catch up. "Although a map would be nice, but I distinctly remember someone leaving it three hostels back." Andy started walking again.

"It was an accident! And that map was shit anyway. It didn't even have all the roads on it! Andy! Andy wait! There's a rock in my shoe." She plopped down on the ground and began untying her shoe.

Her accomplice backtracked and plopped down beside her in the dirt. "I wondered why you were walking so slow. Normally I'm the one in the back." Andy reclined onto her pack and stretched her arms. "We need to get a move on, it's going to rain."

Emily groaned and dumped the rocks from her shoe. "Did we ever get new ponchos? The ones we had ripped."

"Did we get new ponchos?"

"You said you were going to get them."

"Then I am afraid we do not have new ponchos." Andy laughed.

"It's not funny," said Emily through a suppressed smile. "I hate being wet."

"If you can leave maps places, I can forget ponchos."

Emily opened her mouth to respond but Andy shushed her. The sound of an engine could be heard in the distance. The two leaped up from the ground and threw out a hand. They hadn't seen a car in three hours, and it was going to rain.

000

_'"You know the myth around the ravens at the tower of London?" asked Mycroft, glancing at his brother over his tea._

_After an obscene amount of calls, Mycroft finally agreed to meet with Sherlock and I and give some detail to the case._

_Sherlock nodded. I looked at the two Holmes'. "We are just talking about the fact that if the ravens leave the tower will fall, correct? Nothing more."_

_The brothers stared coldly at one another. Mycroft was in a better mood now that the streets were drenched. He seemed to love the rain, or umbrellas; I've never been able to tell which._

_"That is the public knowledge of the legend yes." He paused to sip his tea. "There is of course, another part of the story that had been buried for," he tilted his head as he searched for the word. "Security reasons."_

_"Ah,"'_

000

"The legend is mostly accurate," insisted Mycroft. "There are just a few details that have been warped to the public." Mycroft sipped his tea. Sherlock sat with his elbows on the table, his fingers pressed together.

John straightened his back. He looked out of place with the two brothers and could feel the glances and stares of passersby. "And what," he cleared his throat, "is the real story? The one too sensitive for the public."

Mycroft's eyebrow flicked up at Sherlock. The two stared at each other for a moment before he started to speak. "The story goes that if the raven leaves, the white tower will fall and some sort of catastrophe will occur."

"Everyone knows that. It's a tourist attraction for god's sake."

Sherlock placed his sharp chin on his hands and interrupted. "The 'Ravens' that the story refers to is actually a forgotten crest that is housed in the tip of the tower; the crest of the men who defended the tower from enemies."

"I've never heard of-"

"It was a secret guard that the monarch put in place."

"Which?"

Sherlock gave John a puzzled look. John looked at him in disbelief. He shook his head and looked to Mycroft for an answer.

"Charles the Second," he mumbled to his tea.

"He said that six 'Ravens' should be in the tower at all times." He held up six slender fingers at John. "The Raven's uniform was all black with a gold raven on a black bolt of fabric. They wore them like capes."

John looked from Mycroft to Sherlock. "They were put in place to keep the King safe at all times."

Mycroft pushed him self up in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. "If the king was killed in a time of siege, the person doing the conquering would take over. The Ravens were trained assassins and were never seen unless they were needed."

"So you're telling me the government is paying for six men to live in the tower just so a superstition can be upheld?"

Mycroft frowned, "Not exactly." John shook his head and stared, waiting for an answer. Sherlock sighed and crossed his arms; he was bored, ready to start working.

"Well?" John lost his patience more quickly now-a-days.

"The men are long dead, but the family believe that the capes they wore should be kept in the tower at all times. Unfortunately three of them were stolen five days ago. Two have been returned by other means but the last has gone off the grid."

"And you want us to find it and bring it back," growled Sherlock. "I am not a hound dog, I do not go sniffing around for capes."

"Then why did you take the case?" pushed Mycroft.

Sherlock stood abruptly, tightened his scarf and left the café. John could see him through the spattered window, standing on the curb waiting for a taxi.

"John," Mycroft stood and shook out his coat, "believe it or not this was one of his favorite bedtime stories. I want the cape back and who ever took it on their knees."

The two walked to the door, Mycroft towering over John just like Sherlock does. He shook out his umbrella and stepped out onto the sidewalk to join Sherlock in the rain.

A cab slid to a halt in front of Sherlock. He tore open the door and stuck a foot in. "Same game as normal brother?" Mycroft nodded from underneath his umbrella. Sherlock nodded and slid into the cab.

"Same price as normal John," bellowed Mycroft as the rain came down harder. He took at step in front of John and then turned to him and said quietly, "Keep an eye one him. This one hits close to home."

Mycroft's umbrella bobbed away in the crowd as John climbed into the cab and slammed the door closed.

"221 Baker Street." They were off.


End file.
